Jar of Hearts
by Dahlia J Black
Summary: "Would they really have to spend the rest of their professional relationship ignoring the throbbing heart of it all, beating violently between them?" Jim confronts Spock on his first evening as captain aboard the Enterprise in an attempt to gain closure.


**A/N: **So, yeah, I'm in love with a Vulcan. This is my first attempt at Trek fic and it was terrifying and intimidating, but I couldn't get these boys out of my head. It was a drabble that turned into a one shot for which I am now also writing a prequel chapter (a friggin mutant). Comments are always welcome (but please be gentle with my virgin ass).

_**Disclaimer:**_I don't own anything. I probably couldn't make any money from it if I tried.

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**Jar of Hearts

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Jim Kirk was many things. The most obvious being dashing young Star Fleet captain and friend to all. The most prominent being brash, confident, brilliant and broken.

The latter of which was only known to the handful who sought true intimacy from him (not the masses who sought to bask for a moment in the vibrant life force that radiated from him). Those who wanted something real from Jim Kirk were inevitably left devastated by the apparent jaded disinterest with which he discarded them if they ventured too close.

Of course he did not discard them as willfully and callously as it appeared to the idle bystander.

At the root of every offhand remark or act of feigned boredom was what Jim believed to be the kindness of sparing them the chaotic clusterfuck which would inevitably find him. Of course, at this very core, Jim was far more generous and selfless than even he knew, if not slightly misguided in his efforts.

It was the inevitable chaotic clusterfuck of these misguided efforts that brought Jim to his first officer's quarters on the very first evening of their very first official mission with Jim as the captain of the _Enterprise_.

Spock had caught the entire crew off guard by requesting to become Jim's first officer, but not Jim. Jim had purposefully left that particular position vacant, hoping to entice the Vulcan into joining the crew. Consequently, Jim found himself oscillating at Spock's door.

Jim lifted his hand to press the comm button, hesitated, pulled it back with a frustrated shake of his head and turned on his heel in the direction of his own quarters. He hadn't progressed more than a few determined steps before his leg paused mid air as he swiveled to return. He had barely halted at the door when it slid open, First Officer Spock eyeing him questioningly.

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but found himself at an uncharacteristic loss for words. He swallowed heavily.

"Captain?" Spock prompted with trademark raised eyebrow.

Jim silently cursed those pointy Vulcan ears that had obviously heard his floundering footsteps in the corridor. "I just thought… I just wanted…" Jim faltered, pressing his hand against the wall and staring helplessly at his shoes. "Shouldn't we talk about this?" he asked, finally lifting his eyes to meet Spock's placid gaze.

"To what are you referring, Captain?" Spock asked, nothing in his expression betraying whether he did indeed know what the purpose of Jim's visit was.

"_This_," Jim said emphatically, looking to the empty space between the two of them as if _this_ was something tangible separating them.

"If you are referring to our… _relationship_ prior to our first mission aboard the _Enterprise_, I believe you will find it a highly unnecessary conversation for us to engage in at this time. I have, after all, dropped the charges of academic misconduct against you, and believe that we are able to execute our duties without any past events impeding our performance." Spock, satisfied that his answer was concise, yet detailed enough to appease the captain's need for discussion of the topic, folded his hands behind his back in a show of finality.

The ability to form coherent sentences once again eluded Jim. He stood mouth agape for a moment before Spock's door began to close. Jim took a step forward, causing the door to pause and slide back to its previous position.

"I'm not referring to _Kobayashi Maru_ and you know it," Jim hissed, suddenly infuriated by the Vulcan's deliberate ignorance.

"Despite the altered parameters, my conclusion remains the same," Spock confirmed, his jaw set, his eyes cold.

Jim felt as if he had been dealt a devastating blow. Spock noticed the physical recoil and subsequent desperation that settled over the captain's features, but neglected to acknowledge it.

For a moment Jim seemed as if he was about to reach out to the Vulcan, but thought better of it. His eyes communicated his frantic desire for Spock to acknowledge the depth of emotion and intensity that ran between them – that he _knew_ Spock felt too. Had it really snowballed into such a tangled mess that there was no way to set things right? Would they really have to spend the rest of their professional relationship ignoring the throbbing heart of it all, beating violently between them?

Spock's seemingly dead eyes replied to Jim's unspoken questions in the affirmative.

Jim staggered back to his quarters, all-too-familiar traitor tears stinging his eyes for the first time in months. Their return was most unwelcome, as was the source of their appearance. He threw himself limply onto his bed, starkly aware that the wall that separated his quarters from Spock's, was the same wall against which Spock's bed stood.

Jim would have to spend every night of the foreseeable future with a mere whisper of carbon fiber separating them.

He groaned in frustration, pressing his hand against the cool wall, wondering how things had spiraled so completely out of control. Not that he really needed to think about it. Bones had spelled it out very clearly earlier that day.

"You fucked it up, Jimmy boy," he had barked matter-of-factly. "You knew exactly what you were doing when you flaunted that green girl in front of him, and when you cheated on his test. He knew exactly what he was doing when he got involved with Uhura and laid charges against you. That ship has sailed... and crashed and burned. You've both behaved like brats for long enough. Better to just move forward and let the pointy-eared robot do the same."

"But Bones," Jim had whined in reply, "you weren't there. You didn't _feel_ it."

"You can spare me the details of how _it_ felt," McCoy had sneered.

Jim had pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes before continuing. "We didn't even... That isn't the _point_. The other him... that mindmeld thing he did... there was something there as well... with the other me." Jim had been pretty sure that he was only making sense to himself, but had pressed on. "We were even together in an _alternate fucking universe_, Bones. How can you expect me to ignore that?"

McCoy hadn't even tried to disguise his exasperated eyeroll. "As much as I love telling you what to do, I know you won't listen to me anyway. You already have a plan of action behind those pretty blue eyes, so get it over with. I'll be here waiting to say 'I told you so' when it's done."

"You truly are a prince among men," Kirk had deadpanned.

Bones had been right, though. He always was. Although Jim would die a fiery death before admitting it.

Jim had definitely known what he was doing when he took off with that Gaila right in front of Spock. He knew that he was destroying the tenuous balance of his and Spock's already volatile relationship.

Jim had, after all, been the one who had pursued Spock aggressively after attending one of his xenobiology seminars. Jim had been the one to logic away any sense of impropriety that Spock had objected to initially. Jim had been the one who had gently traced his fingers over the Vulcan's palm that one late August afternoon in his academic office. Jim had been the one to carefully press his lips to the reluctant man's throat. Jim had been the one to whisper obscure Vulcan poetry is Spock's ear and show him all the borderline deviant things he wanted to do to him. Jim had been the hunter who had triumphantly claimed his rare and hesitant prey.

Jim had also been the one to get so overwhelmed by the connection the two men had shared in their few covert encounters, that he had pushed back with all his might and eventually found himself challenging Spock with his stare as he had dragged the Gaila, the Orion, back to the room he knew she shared with Uhura. Uhura, who he knew to be Spock's friend. Uhura, who he knew to be in love with Spock, who wouldn't be able to keep such information to herself.

Jim had orchestrated it all perfectly, once again.

It was the kind thing to do. Noble, even.

If only it had ended there.

If only Jim had been able to let go.

If only Jim had stayed away from that damned _Kobayashi Maru _program code. Looking back, he was a jealous child seeking attention. He could still feel shame and regret wash over him as he stood pinned beneath Spock's gaze at the disciplinary hearing. He could still remember how all the blood had rushed from his face when Spock had been as callous as to mention his father. He hadn't known that everything was about to change. Neither of them did. Jim hadn't known that Spock was about to lose his planet, his race and his mother. He hadn't known how much he would hurt for Spock. He definitely hadn't known how much it would kill him to see Uhura in Spock's arms.

He also hadn't known for certain that Spock would end up as his first officer on the _Enterprise_ (although he couldn't deny the part of him that had hoped).

He hadn't known that he would spend the night of his first mission as captain sniffling into his pillow like a little girl over the loss of the one relationship he had destroyed beyond repair that he wished he hadn't.

Jim abruptly sat upright in his bed, hand still pressed to the wall beside him, suddenly resolute.

He couldn't let it end like this. He refused.

He strode determinedly from his quarters, this time not hesitating once as he pressed the button outside Spock's quarters.

Spock looked slightly puzzled when he opened the door. "Captain, I believe that we have satisfactorily concluded our communication for the evening?"

"You may be satisfied, Spock, but I'm not," Jim said, chin held high with tenacity.

"Forgive me, sir, but I do not know what I can do to assist with your satisfaction," Spock replied evenly.

_Bastard_, Jim thought, swallowing down the lust that threatened to derail his attempt at closure.

"May I come inside?" Jim asked, ready to field any well-aimed logic that Spock was about to use to keep him away.

Nothing could've surprised Jim more than the sight of Spock stepping aside to let him in.

Jim marched past Spock and planted himself in the middle of the room, arms folded over his chest. Spock stood a few feet away from him, hands calmly settled in the small of his back. He looked expectantly at Jim.

Jim took a moment to compose himself after drinking in the sight of Spock in nothing but a pair of loose-fitting pants and a tight black sleeveless shirt. His voice was unexpectedly level when he finally spoke. "I'm sorry, Spock. I've done every single thing wrong that I possibly could have when it came to you. I wish I could go back and stop myself before I hurt us both." Jim knew he was assuming a lot - perhaps too much - of Spock's former feelings for him, but he was done with tip-toeing around the issues.

Spock remained perfectly still for so long that Jim was convinced he wasn't going to respond. Finally he spoke, simply and quietly. "One must not wish away a past that has shaped one's future."

Their eyes locked for what felt like an infinitesimal amount of time before Jim couldn't fight the urge to look away.

"I know we can never go back to... what we were, whatever that was," he said, dropping his gaze to the floor before bringing it back to Spock's still-too-intense stare, "but if we could just acknowledge it... for one night, I think I could be able to move on. Probably. At least I'd be more willing to try." Jim realized he was rambling and took a steadying breath before continuing. "I'll be miserable if I don't get to hold you, knowing it's the last time."

"The probability of your emotional state being compromised despite this kind of interaction is illogically high, Jim."

_Jim_. The use of his first name sent Jim's heart racing with unbridled joy. By the slight twitch in Spock's eyebrow, Jim could tell that he also noticed the increase in Jim's heart rate. He always could.

"Please, just let this illogical human have one last night with you." It was the last plea of a desperate man.

Spock's features remained composed, but Jim could see the computations and calculations whirring behind the Vulcan's eyes. "The emotional well-being of the captain is one of the first officer's primary duties," he finally conceded.

_That's about as close to a yes as I'm going to get_, Jim thought triumphantly as he reached out to Spock, who didn't seem intent on reciprocating Jim's advances. Jim had known this wouldn't be easy, but he was willing to take whatever the Vulcan was willing to give.

Jim tugged lightly on Spock's wrist, watching the Vulcan's eyes close momentarily as he telepathically absorbed Jim's thoughts and feelings through the touch of their skin, before pulling him to the bed. Spock laid down on his back, rigid. Jim sighed audibly as he curled his body around Spock's, basking in the familiar warmth that soon started to radiate through him. He slung his arm over Spock's torso and rested his hand on the other man's right side, where his Vulcan heart was thrumming.

The two men remained there, tangled and silently communicating the last thoughts and feelings they were likely to share of their aborted relationship, content just to _be_. Jim would occasionally press a desperate kiss to Spock's throat or touch a single finger to his lips, fighting the urge to sink into sleep in favor of being conscious for every moment of this final night with Spock.

When Jim had finally succumbed to sleep in the early morning hours, Spock moved for the first time in hours, pressing his hand flat against the firm skin of Jim's lower back, soaking in the relaxed tenor of his thoughts as he dreamt.

Although this is what Jim had wanted, Spock knew on a very conscious and logical level that the night would do far more harm than good to both of them. Spock had spent the weeks leading up to the commencement of this mission in near-constant meditation, attempting to purge the last of Jim Kirk from his system, readying himself for an existence that did not involve the Human. All his efforts had been thwarted at the sight of Jim's bright blue eyes in a news article on the _Enterprise's_ upcoming mission. He had acted impulsively in his decision to apply as the ship's first officer, but he had convinced himself that he would be able to maintain his carefully constructed control if he remained a safe distance from the captain.

So, why had Spock surrendered to the Human's request for intimacy when he knew it would wound him emotionally?

The answer was simple: Jim Kirk's happiness would remain inordinately important to the Vulcan for as long as they both lived - just as Spock Prime had implied. He would endeavour to maintain his new captain's happiness, even at his personal expense. He could therefore not deny him this last request.

"Deny me bread, air, light, spring," Spock whispered, his lips lightly grazing Jim's temple, "but never your laughter, for I would die."

Spock didn't indicate his consciousness when Jim stealthily attempted to exit the Vulcan's bed early the next morning. He stood for a moment beside the bed, staring at Spock's immobile features in the dimness of the room. Jim lightly traced a finger along the curve of Spock's jaw, ready to proceed with a relationship that was strictly professional.

Spock, however, didn't need telepathic abilities or unfailing logic to know that the probability of that remaining true was excessively slim.

Spock allowed himself a small smile at the thought.


End file.
